


Play Your Books Right

by Liadt



Category: Dark Towers, Look and Read
Genre: Books, Gen, OC's - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-10
Updated: 2014-01-10
Packaged: 2018-01-05 10:01:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 817
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1092581
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Liadt/pseuds/Liadt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lord Dark wants to get on with his carving until two strange men carrying books turn up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Play Your Books Right

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lost_spook](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lost_spook/gifts).



It was a sweltering hot day out in the grounds of Dark Towers, where its first ever fete was being held. Lord Dark wasn’t outside overseeing the merriments; he was in his chilly artist’s studio carving his latest sculpture. He was a flame haired man, dressed in a battered wax jacket over a pair of cords and a shirt where it wasn’t possible to discern which tea strains were most recent. If Lord Dark had bothered with ironing, the experience would have been crunchy. 

There was a knock at the studio’s door. “Come in,” said Lord Dark, irritably. What part of “Private - keep out” on the large and neatly written sign, hung on the door, didn’t the knocker understand? 

Two men came through the door; they were both carrying a large, slim leather bound book apiece. The one he assumed to be the senior partner of the two was of average height and wore a black suit. His thinning black hair was plastered back from his temples and with his beady black eyes and leaf blade nose he looked like a snake. The other was of a height that when people saw him in a photograph couldn’t tell if the people standing next to him were very short or if he was unfeasibly tall - he fitted the latter description. His face was as if someone had tried to squash several sausages together, with an ear on a one-way ticket to becoming a cauliflower. The giant was less formally dressed, in a tight leather bomber jacket and jeans.

The snake took a step forwards. “Excuse me for disturbing you, could you tell me where we might find Lord Dark? We have important business with him.”

“I’m Lord Dark.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry, my Lord, I didn’t recognise you in this light,” the snake fawned.

Lord Dark frowned. The room he used as a studio was brightly lit by the sun streaming through the windows. 

“Let me introduce myself, I’m Jasper Black and my partner is Cru-er-er Mr Jenkins from the Department of Historical Documents,” said the snake. Black hoped Lord Dark didn’t ask for Jenkins first name, he was sure Crusher wasn’t on his birth certificate. “We’ve come to inspect your book collection for rare tomes and ensure they are being stored correctly, as stated in the letter I sent you last month.”

“I don’t remember any letter. I don’t read any letters unless they are colour coded in red.” Lord Dark waved a hand at a large pile of letters weighed down under a clay test model.

“Ah yes, of course, being a member of the aristocracy you must have many letters sent to you. It is fortuitous I have a copy of our Department’s letter with me.” Black pulled out a letter from inside the oversized book he carried and presented it to Lord Dark. The letter was typed on thick, creamy, expensive paper with an impressive Department of Historical Documents seal embossed at the top. 

Lord Dark scanned the letter. “It says here if where the books are kept is deemed to be unsuitable the Department will pay for improvements to the building, where the books are kept.” Lord Dark wasn’t a greedy man, but he couldn’t recall the last time he hadn’t worn a coat or a jumper indoors. Even in summer, it was cold. His son, Edward, claimed it was because of ghosts, Lord Dark thought drafts and an over-active imagination didn’t go together.

“That is correct. We at the Department believe books should be kept where they belong and not orphaned in a central archive,” said Black.

“I thought Mr Jenkins might take the books away when you said you were inspecting books.” Lord Dark wasn’t the most observant person, but even he could tell Crusher Jenkins wasn’t anyone’s idea of a librarian. 

Black smirked. “Ah well, they say never judge a book by its cover. Jenkins is a savant, a savant of books. At anything else he is a dunderhead, but when it comes to books he can tell blindfolded an illuminated, mediaeval script from yesterday’s tabloid newspaper. If it’s not too much trouble, we would like to make a start cataloguing your collection.”

“By all means. By the way, how long would it take until I receive money for repairs, if you find any rare books?”

“Not long, not long,” reassured Black. “If you could show me where your library is?”

“Now? I was planning to finish this sculpture off today,” said Lord Dark, more sharply than he meant to. Suddenly inspiration struck. “I’ll get my son, Edward, to show you. He spends more time up there reading than I do. He should be outside somewhere, he could do with the distraction, his friend Tracey is away on a young archaeologists’ dig.”

“Young love, how sweet,” said Black.

Lord Dark winced at Black’s words and moved towards the studio’s exit.


End file.
